Author's Note: Well I said I was going to update once a month, but that didn't happen. I love writing, but I've been super busy with school. Last semester I got a 4.0 average (meaning I got A grades in all of my classes)! I really want to get a 4.0 again this semester, and that requires a lot of time spent studying. At some point I'm probably going to put an update schedule on my profile in an effort to try and force myself to update in a timely manner. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter!
Disclaimer: I don't own The Perks of Being a Wallflower. Everything in bold and italics comes directly from The Perks of Being a Wallflower book, and was thus written by Stephen Chbosky.
Sam began to read the next letter.
December 19, 1991
Dear friend,
I have since received thrift store "slacks." I have also received a tie, a white shirt, shoes, and an old belt. I'm guessing that my last gift at the party will be a suit coat because it's the only thing left. I was told by a typed note to wear everything I had been given to the party. I hope there is something behind this.
"There is!" Patrick exclaimed. Sam and Mary Elizabeth no longer had the energy to continue to tell him to stop interrupting.
The good news is that Patrick liked all my gifts very much.
"I did!"
Mary Elizabeth rolled her eyes.
Gift number three was a set of watercolor paints and some paper. I thought he might like to get them even if he never uses them.
"I've used them!" Patrick once again interjected.
"Bullshit!" Sam replied. "I haven't seen you use them once."
"I've used them a couple of times," he told her. "I just prefer to paint in private."
Mary Elizabeth rolled her eyes once again.
Gift number four was a harmonica and a book about playing it. I guess it's probably the same gift as the water colors, but I really think that everyone should have watercolors, magnetic poetry, and a harmonica.
"I have none of those things. It hasn't affected my life in any way," Mary Elizabeth felt the need to point out. This time Patrick rolled his eyes.
"Don't be jealous, you can always borrow mine," he replied, smirking back at her.
My last gift before the party is a book called The Mayor of Castro Street. It is about a man named Harvey Milk, who was a gay leader in San Francisco. I went to the library when Patrick told me he was gay, and I did some research because I honestly didn't know much about it. I found an article about a documentary movie about Harvey Milk. And when I couldn't find the movie, I just searched for his name, and I found this book.
I have not read it myself, but the description on the book seemed very good. I hope that it means something to Patrick.
"It was the best book I ever read," Patrick smiled fondly.
I can't wait for the party, so I can give Patrick my party present. Incidentally, I have taken all my finals for the semester, and it has been very busy, and I would have told you all about it, but it just doesn't seem as interesting as these other things that have to do with holidays.
Love always,
Charlie
"Is the next letter about the Christmas party?" Patrick asked Sam as she finished reading the letter. She glanced at it.
"It is," she said. "Why? Would you like to read it?"
"Yeah, the Christmas party is one of my favorite memories from Senior year. In my mind, that whole year is kind of tainted for me because of all the drama that went on with Brad. Sometimes I need to be reminded about all the fun times we had together."
Sam nodded sympathetically and handed Patrick the next letter. He started to read.
December 21, 1991
Dear friend,
Wow. Wow. I can paint the picture for you if you like. We are all sitting in Sam and Patrick's house, which I had never seen before. It was a rich house. Very clean. And we were all giving our 39 final presents. The outside lights were on, and it was snowing, and it looked like magic. Like we were somewhere else. Like we were someplace better.
It was the first time I had ever met Sam and Patrick's parents. They were so nice.
"We do have great parents," Patrick stopped reading to say. Sam silently agreed with him.
Sam's mom is very pretty and tells great jokes. Sam said she used to be an actress when she was younger. Patrick's dad is very tall and has a great handshake. He is also a very good cook. A lot of parents make you feel very awkward when you meet them. But not Sam and Patrick's. They were friendly all through dinner, and when dinner was over, they left so we could have our party. They didn't even check on us or anything. Not once. They just let us pretend it was our house. So, we decided to have the party in the "games" room, which had no games but a great rug.
When I revealed that I was Patrick's Secret Santa, everyone laughed because everyone knew, and Patrick did his best impersonation of being surprised, which was nice of him.
"That was nice of me! I'm a very good actor," Patrick agreed.
"Sure you are," Mary Elizabeth placated him.
Then, everyone asked what my last gift was, and I told them it was a poem I read a long time ago. It was a poem that Michael made a copy of for me. And I have read it a thousand times since because I don't know who wrote it. I don't know if it was ever in a book or a class. And I don't know how old the person was. But I know that I want to know him or her. I want to know that this person is okay.
So, everyone asked me to stand up and read the poem. And I wasn't shy because we were trying to act like grown-ups, and we drank brandy. And I was warm. I'm still a little warm, but I have to tell you this. So, I stood up, and just before I read this poem, I asked everyone if they knew who wrote it to please tell me.
"I remember that poem," Sam spoke. "It was really beautiful, in a melancholy kind of way."
"It was the first time I thought of Charlie as anything more than an annoying Freshman tagalong. I realized that he had a life before he met us, and it wasn't a totally happy one," Mary Elizabeth responded darkly.
When I was done reading the poem, everyone was quiet. A very sad quiet. But the amazing thing was that it wasn't a bad sad at all. It was just something that made everyone look around at each other and know that they were there. Sam and Patrick looked at me. And I looked at them. And I think they knew. Not anything specific really. They just knew. And I think that's all you can ever ask from a friend.
Patrick and Sam looked at each other. A quiet moment of understanding how much their friendship means to Charlie passed between them.
That's when Patrick put on the second side of the tape I made for him and poured everyone another glass of brandy. I guess we all looked a little silly drinking it, but we didn't feel silly. I can tell you that.
As the songs kept playing, Mary Elizabeth stood up. But she wasn't holding a suit coat. It turns out that she wasn't my Secret Santa at all. She was the Secret Santa to the other girl with the tattoo and belly button ring, whose real name is Alice. She gave her some black nail polish that Alice had had her eye on. And Alice was very grateful. I just sat there, looking around the room. Looking for the suit coat. Not knowing who could possibly be holding it.
"That's because I'm a good Secret Santa, unlike some people," Patrick joked in an effort to lighten the mood.
Sam stood up next, and she gave Bob a handcrafted Native American marijuana pipe, which seemed appropriate.
"He told me it was the best gift anyone had ever given him," Sam informed her friends.
More people gave more gifts. And more hugs were exchanged. And finally, it came to the end. No one was left except for Patrick. And he stood up and walked into the kitchen.
"Does anyone want any chips?"
Everyone did. And he came out with three tubes of Pringles and a suit coat. And he walked up to me. And he said that all the great writers used to wear suits all the time.
"That was an extremely thoughtful gift," Sam beamed at her step brother. Patrick grinned back at her.
"I have my moments," he decided. "I'm just really glad Charlie liked the suit so much. Especially after knowing how much effort and thought he put into my gift."
So, I put on the suit even though I didn't feel like I really deserved to since all I write are essays for Bill, but it was such a nice present, and everyone clapped their hands anyway. Sam and Patrick both agreed I looked handsome. Mary Elizabeth smiled. I think it was the first time in my life I ever felt like I looked "good." Do you know what I mean? That nice feeling when you look in the mirror, and your hair's right for the first time in your life? I don't think we should base so much on weight, muscles, and a good hair day, but when it happens, it's nice. It really is.
"That's how I feel every day!" Patrick proclaimed, his momentary seriousness gone. Sam and Mary Elizabeth groaned in response.
The rest of the evening was very special. Since a lot of people were going away with their families to places like Florida and Indiana, we all exchanged presents with the people we weren't Secret Santas for.
Bob gave Patrick an eighth of marijuana with a Christmas card attached. He even wrapped it. Mary Elizabeth gave Sam earrings. So did Alice. And Sam gave them earrings, too. I think that is a private girl thing.
Mary Elizabeth and Sam burst into hysterics at this as Patrick stared at them with a look of confusion on his face.
"Is it a private girl thing?" He wondered. "I'm gay, I shouldn't have to think this hard about interactions between women!"
I have to admit, I felt a little sad because other than Sam and Patrick, nobody got me a present. I guess I'm not that close with them, so it makes sense. But I still felt a little sad.
"Oh no! I still feel so guilty about not getting him a present. And the gift he gave me was so nice," Mary Elizabeth fretted. Sam and Patrick weren't sure how to respond. They knew she was genuinely remorseful, and they didn't want to say something to make her feel worse than she already did. Patrick decided to just continue reading the letter.
And then it came to my turn. I gave Bob a little plastic tube of soap bubbles because it just seemed to fit his personality. I guess I was right.
"Too much," was all he said.
He spent the rest of the night blowing bubbles at the ceiling.
Everyone laughed at this. Bob was usually a great source of humor among their group of friends.
Next was Alice. I gave her a book by Anne Rice because she is always talking about her. And she looked at me like she couldn't believe I knew she loved Anne Rice. I guess she didn't know how much she talked or how much I listen. But she thanked me all the same.
"She does talk a lot about Anne Rice," Mary Elizabeth consented.
Next came Mary Elizabeth. I gave her forty dollars inside a card. The card said something pretty simple: "To be spent on printing Punk Rocky in color next time." And she looked at me funny. Then, they all started to look at me funny except for Sam and Patrick. I think they started feeling bad because they didn't get me anything.
"We all felt terrible!" Mary Elizabeth asserted.
But I don't think they should have because I don't think that's the point really. Mary Elizabeth just smiled, and said thanks, and then stopped looking at me in the eye.
Last came Sam. I had been thinking about this present for a long time. I think I thought about this present from the first time I really saw her. Not met her or saw her but the first time I really saw her if you know what I mean. There was a card attached.
Inside the card, I told Sam that the present I gave her was given to me by my Aunt Helen.
Patrick stopped reading for a moment at this. They all felt uneasy every time Charlie mentioned his Aunt Helen in one of his letters, knowing how it turned out she had hurt Charlie in the worst way. Patrick continued reading a few seconds later as if nothing had bothered him.
It was an old 45 record that had the Beatles' song "Something." I used to listen to it all the time when I was little and thinking about grown-up things. I would go to my bedroom window and stare at my reflection in the glass and the trees behind it and just listen to the song for hours. I decided then that when I met someone I thought was as beautiful as the song, I should give it to that person. And I didn't mean beautiful on the outside. I meant beautiful in all ways. So, I was giving it to Sam.
Sam blushed at this, and Patrick gave her a knowing smile.
Sam looked at me soft. And she hugged me. And I closed my eyes because I wanted to know nothing but her arms. And she kissed my cheek and whispered so nobody could hear.
"I love you."
I knew that she meant it in a friend way, but I didn't care because it was the third time since my Aunt Helen died that I heard it from anyone. The other two times were from my mom.
After that, I couldn't believe that Sam actually got me a present because I honestly thought that the "I love you" was it.
"That's actually really sweet," Mary Elizabeth thought out loud. Patrick did his best to suppress a giggle as he realized that Sam's face was growing pinker by the second.
But she did get me a present. And for the first time, something nice like that made me smile and not cry. I guess Sam and Patrick went to the same thrift store because their gifts went together. She took me to her room and stood me in front of her dresser, which was covered in a pillowcase with pretty colors. She lifted off the pillowcase, and there I was, standing in my old suit, looking at an old typewriter with a fresh ribbon. Inside the typewriter was a piece of white paper.
On that piece of white paper, Sam wrote, "Write about me sometime." And I typed something back to her, standing right there in her bedroom. I just typed.
"I will."
"And he kept his promise," Sam noted as she gestured toward the stack of Charlie's letters that sat in the middle of the room.
And I felt good that those were the first two words that I ever typed on my new old typewriter that Sam gave me. We just sat there quiet for a moment, and she smiled. And I moved to the typewriter again, and I wrote something.
"I love you, too."
And Sam looked at the paper, and she looked at me.
"Charlie ... have you ever kissed a girl?" I shook my head no. It was so quiet.
"Not even when you were little?"
I shook my head no again. And she looked very sad.
She told me about the first time she was kissed. She told me that it was with one of her dad's friends. She was seven. And she told nobody about it except for Mary Elizabeth and then Patrick a year ago. And she started to cry. And she said something that I won't forget. Ever.
"I know that you know that I like Craig. And I know that I told you not to think of me that way. And I know that we can't be together like that. But I want to forget all those things for a minute. Okay?"
"Okay."
"I want to make sure that the first person you kiss loves you. Okay?"
"Okay." She was crying harder now. And I was, too, because when I hear something like that I just can't help it.
"I just want to make sure of that. Okay?"
"Okay."
And she kissed me. It was the kind of kiss that I could never tell my friends about out loud. It was the kind of kiss that made me know that I was never so happy in my whole life.
Patrick and Mary Elizabeth knew better than to commented on such an intimate moment between Sam and Charlie. They pretended they didn't notice the silent tears slowing making their way down her flushed cheeks.
Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
he wrote a poem
And called it "Chops" Because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts
That was the year Father Tracy
took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X's
and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it
Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Autumn"
because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because of its new paint
And the kids told him
that Father Tracy smoked cigars
and left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it
Once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Innocence: A Question"
because that was the question about his girl
And that's what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
That was the year that Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
of the Apostle's Creed went
And he caught his sister
making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
And the girl around the corner
wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
because that was the thing to do
And at three A.M. he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring soundly
That's why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
And he called it "Absolutely Nothing" Because that's what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
and a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
because this time he didn't think
he could reach the kitchen.
That was the poem I read for Patrick. Nobody knew who wrote it, but Bob said he heard it before, and he heard that it was some kid's suicide note. I really hope it wasn't because then I don't know if I like the ending.
Love always,
Charlie
The three of them sat in silence. The poem having the exact same effect it did last Christmas. And they agreed with Charlie about the ending.
Author's Note: Wow! That was the longest chapter yet! I also recently wrote a fanfic for Harry Potter. It's a one shot, so it's pretty short if anyone wants to check that out. Thanks for reading!